


Here Comes Their Sun

by TunaDiamond



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M, Harrison - Freeform, Lennon - Freeform, Liverpool, McLennon, One Shot, Road Trip, Sex, Shea Stadium, Smut, Starr - Freeform, The Cavern Club, mccartney - Freeform, mclennstarr, mclennstarrison, starkey - Freeform, starrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29734665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TunaDiamond/pseuds/TunaDiamond
Summary: The boys aren't like they used to be. They've grown up, and George Martin thinks that their music is suffering for it...So what does Ruby Starkey do?She takes them on a road trip, returning them back to Mr Martin the next day as the boys who could record an entire album in just forty-eight hours.There's only one rule: what happens on the road trip stays on the road trip.
Relationships: John Lennon/Yoko Ono, Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney, Pattie Boyd/George Harrison, Ringo Starr/Original Character(s)





	Here Comes Their Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on wattpad @tunadiamond   
> Follow me on instagram@tuna.diamond

"Where're the lads today, please?" I asked, speaking to the receptionist at the desk without looking at her, instead focusing on my face which I could see using the open compact mirror in my hand.

"They're in studio 2 today, Mrs Starkey." She replied with a bob of her head in subservience. 

"Right," I closed the compact and puckered my lips, spreading the lipstick more evenly. "Thank you." I turned and pranced off, loving the feeling of my skirt riding further up my legs as I went... and I knew that my Ritchie would love it, too.

I knocked on the door of studio 2, and it was opened several seconds later by George Martin. He smiled at me, "good afternoon, Ruby."

"Afternoon, Mr Martin." I paused, "how close do you think the boys are to being done?"  
He looked down, his eyebrows furrowing as he clicked his tongue against his teeth in disappointment, "nowhere near, I'm afraid, my dear. The only one who _is_ working today is your husband."  
He gestured for me to come into the mixing booth. I did, stopping in front of the large window which looked down into the recording room. All four of the lads were down there, but Ritchie was the only one who looked like he actually _cared_ about the music. The rest of them; John, Paul and George, were arguing about something. I couldn't hear what they were arguing about as Mr Martin had muted them. I turned to them, "have they been like this all day?"  
He sighed and nodded, closing the door that I had just come through. He walked over to join me in front of the window, "I miss the boys who could record an entire album in two days."

I nodded, watching as Ritchie drummed a silent beat and Paul and John squabbled, excluding George from their argument, now.

"So do I." I said quietly, mostly to myself.

It was then that Ritchie looked away from his drums and up at the window, his bright blue eyes lighting up and a grin spreading across his gorgeous face as he realised that I was watching him.

He called something out to Paul, John and George, who then looked up to the window as well. I smiled at all of them, uncrossing my arms from my chest and waving eagerly at all of them, though I kept my eyes fixed on my husband.

His brows had furrowed, but I couldn't work out why.

Ritchie put his drumsticks down and the others shucked their instruments. They made their way up the stairs towards us. I turned to Mr Martin, "they need some time off - can I take them for the day?"  
"They need to finish this album."

I nodded, "I know, but they need to go back to being the boys who could record an album in two days." I paused, "I can remind them of those boys and bring them back to you like they used to be."  
Our time was running out. We could hear them arguing outside the door; from what I could discern from their thick Scouse accents - the ones that I had never quite gotten used to - John was going to come into the room first, and Ritchie was arguing that he should be first in because it was his wife in there.

"Alright," Mr Martin said in a desperate tone of voice, "but Ruby, this needs to work. I can't do this with them anymore -"  
"Eh!" John had won the argument. He came into the mixing booth first, Ritchie following behind with a grumpy look on his face, and then Paul and George behind him. John hurried over to me with his arms open, but I ducked underneath one of his arms and hurried to Ritchie, who held me tightly and kissed my lips lovingly. I smiled at his display of affection, not caring if Mr Martin, John, Paul and George watched. I loved Ritchie, and I would always be happy to display my love for him in front of anybody and everybody.

"Wasn't expecting you to be here today, Rube," Ritchie said as I turned in his arms, my back against his chest and his chin resting on my shoulder.

I smiled at the rest of the boys, "we're going on a road trip."  
"Road trip?" They echoed, including Ritchie. I nodded.

"Where to?" John asked, "can I bring Yoko?"  
"No wives." I said loudly, "except me, of course." George chuckled.

"I don't like leaving Linda and Heather," Paul paused, "can't I just -"  
"No wives, no children. No housekeepers, no gardeners and no commitments." I paused, noticing that Mr Martin had left the room - most likely whilst I had been kissing my husband. "Well, no commitments other than getting here for tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"But -"  
I sighed, removing myself from Ritchie's arms and going to sit on the settee in the corner of the room, "boys, Mr Martin and I are in agreement - you've changed."  
"We just grew up a bit, Rube," John said, sitting close beside me. I laughed and pushed him off of the leather. He slid onto the floor, frowning when he landed on his ankle. He continued to sit on the floor. Like a school teacher, I gestured for the other three Beatles to do the same thing.

"You didn't just grow, boys," I said, "you stopped caring about the music. John, you and Paul don't write together anymore, do you? It's either your own songs, or he does one bit and passes it along to you to finish. Don't you remember when you used to sit down _together_ and write?" I paused, "your songs were much more meaningful back then, you have to admit." John and Paul were sitting on opposite sides of the line; Ritchie and George between them. I turned to George, "Georgie, you were just a kid when you joined the Quarrymen, and not even eighteen when you went to Hamburg." He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, "your music is better for you growing up, but are _you_?" Again, he tried to speak, but I just continued, "Georgie, ditch the sitar for just one song, _I beg you_ , and try just a plain old guitar. Write about something good and positive - something that everybody can relate to. Nobody knew what 'Within You, Without You' was about. People don't listen to _The Beatles_ because they want crazy songs," I shot a glare at John, "'I Am The Walrus' included," I paused, "but because they want something to _love_." I took a deep breath, "Ritchie, I've noticed how you've changed because I spend the most time with you. You used to spend hours with the boys when they were babies, but now you barely even glance at them when you walk through the door." I took a look at the four of them; the men who might as well have owned the entire world, "the four of you aren't happy, and it's showing in your music. People are turning to shit like _Black Sabbath_ and _Deep Purple_ because you're not doing it for them anymore. None of you care about yourselves or your family or the music like you used to, and we need to change that."

"So where're we going then, Rube?" Paul asked.

I smirked. "Back to where it all started."

* * * * *

I sat up front and George drove because he was the best out of the four of them. The other three sat in the back, Ritchie directly behind me. He played with my hair over the back of the seat, but whenever he grew bored of doing that, he lit up a cigarette or cracked his knuckles or drummed on the back of the seat.

The drumming was driving me mad. I could feel it against my back, but I didn't say anything. He had always done that; drum on any surface.

John was reading out of a new book he'd gotten, sometimes reciting funny passages or retelling a joke that he'd heard from Elton John the last time they'd gone out.

Paul was humming a tune that I hadn't heard before. Sometimes he sung a string of words that sounded like they went to the same tune, and I quite liked how it all sounded.

"Is that something new you're working on, Paul?" I asked him after over an hour of him singing the same two lines.

I turned around in my seat to watch him. He shrugged, "think it might be. I was going to call it 'The Lovely Linda', what do you think?"  
I smiled at him, "you really love her, don't you?"

Paul nodded, "I want to marry her, y'know."

I nodded, "I know."

"And I want to adopt Heather -"  
"You're brat free at the moment, lad, why'd you want to saddle yourself up with one that isn't even yours?" John asked, looking up from the pages of his book.

George glared at him in the mirror overhead, and Ritchie and I glowered at him.

"Kids are wonderful, Paul," I said pointedly, still glaring at John, "you'd be a great dad."  
"Pattie and me keep trying for a baby, but it doesn't happen." George said, shocking all of us. He never spoke about his and Pattie's relationship - from the outside, which was where we all were - it seemed like they were perfect. They never argued, they were always in each other's arms, and they had the sweetest pet names. Even Ritchie and I argued sometimes, and I knew for a fact that he often complained about me to the lads because I had overheard him doing so, once... but it didn't bother me. I knew that he needed space to vent and people to complain to.

"Oh, George, I'm so sorry." I put a hand on his arm. Briefly, he glanced at it before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Thanks, Rube."

We drove in silence for a little while longer, the only sounds being the clicking of the boys' lighters as they lit the ends of their cigarettes and them inhaling on the stick.

"Right," I said as we drove into Liverpool, turning in my seat to face the three in the back, "what happens on this trip stays on this trip, yeah?" The four of them nodded. I chuckled, "except you, Ritchie," I paused, "I will know about _whatever_ you do."  
John guffawed.

"Where am I stopping then, boss?" George asked in a teasing tone as he drove slowly around the unfamiliarly familiar streets.

"Go to mine," Paul said, "I still own it, and dad and Angie don't live there anymore."

George nodded and drove to Forthlin Road without needing directions; he had certainly spent enough time walking to there that the roads were familiar.

* * * * *

"Right," I said later that evening as the lads finished their bags of chips from the chippy on Penny Lane, something that they hadn't been able to enjoy since they'd moved to London in 1963, six years earlier. It was actually only my second time visiting Liverpool, so I wasn't well known in the city. I had driven George's car to get their orders, and had had a conversation with a young girl whilst I was there - she had in fact told me that I looked quite a lot like Ringo Starr's wife, and that he was her favourite Beatle. I had smiled at that and said that he was mine, too. She had told me that she couldn't wait for their next album. I had asked for her phone number so I could call her - but in reality, I intended to have the number traced back to her house and the boys to turn up there the next day before we all left for London once more.

"Do you ever sit down for more than five minutes at a time?" Paul asked from the cushion that he was sitting on the floor with, there being very little furniture left in the house.

"No." Ritchie said, "she doesn't." He threw another chip into his mouth. I frowned.

"I do, too -"  
"No you don't," John answered, "you've been pacing for the last twenty minutes," he paused, "so what have you got planned for us next, then?"

"We're going to the Cavern -"  
"We'll be recognised." George drawled, "I don't fancy being chased tonight, Rube, those chips have left me stuffed -"

I went over to the bag which I had been keeping in my car for the last year. I had switched it to George's car when we'd decided to take the road trip earlier that day, and Ritchie had brought it into the house for me. I unzipped it and began to dig around, pulling out various things.

I threw a wig at Paul and a stick-on moustache to George.

"What are these for?" George and Paul chorused.

I turned to look at them, cocking my head. I sighed, "even you two aren't that thick - put them on. Ritch," I turned to look at my husband, "as much as I adore your gorgeous blue eyes, you're going to need to wear contacts." I handed him a capsule of contact lenses, "want me to put them in for you?"  
"Mirror's in the bathroom still, I think." Paul said as he fiddled around with his newly donned wig. I nodded and gestured for Ritchie to go and put them in. He left the room and I turned to John, who looked faintly worried.

"Don't look so scared, Lennon." I chuckled, pulling out the scissors and holding them behind my back so he wouldn't see them, "nothing as scary as a wig for you."

"What've you got for me, then?" He asked, "a third leg?" I held up the scissors and he paled. "No, Rube -"  
"Relax," I said, "Yoko won't mind if you cut your hair a bit -"

"She will, and I'm not cutting it."

"George is going to cut his." I looked at George, whose eyes had widened as soon as I had finished my last sentence.

"I'm _what_?"

"Hush, Georgie," I turned back to John, "do it yourself if you want, but it's coming off. You're going short -"  
"No -"  
"Or bald." If possible, John went even more pale. He took the scissors from me.

"I'm not going bald." He began to snip away at his hair. Satisfied, I turned to George.

"You're next."  
"I'm not."

"They're not staying in!" I turned my head in the direction of the bathroom and sighed, uncrossing my arms. 

"Right," I said, "Ritchie needs me to do his contacts for him; George, either you cut it, I do, or John does. It's up to you."

"What about me?" Paul asked.

"You're going to fix your eyebrows." I threw him my own eyebrow pencil, "make them thicker and a weirder shape." He nodded, knowing that he had gotten off quite lightly with the disguises.

"Anything else that we have to change about ourselves to fit your ridiculous plan?" John asked sarcastically, still hacking away at his locks.

I nodded, "there are some clothes in the bag." I gestured to it, "John, you and Paul and George are all roughly the same height, so just switch and wear each other's, okay? Ritchie'll have to wear his own stuff and we'll just see how it goes -"  
"Are you going to make your precious _Ritchie_ cut _his_ hair?" John asked teasingly.

I scoffed, "of course not," I paused, "what would I tug on when we have sex?"  
The three of them pretended to be sick and I hurried off to the bathroom laughing.

"Hey," I said as I knocked on the open door, "can I come in?" Ritchie turned to me, smiled and nodded. He had been looking in the mirror trying to put the contacts in. I came in and took the contact from his finger, putting it back in the capsule to give it some time to get more liquid on it. I hoped that this would make it hurt less when I put it in his eye. "They're acting like a load of babies out there," I said, "Zak and Jason have been known to behave better."

Ritchie chuckled, "they're _always_ like that." I took the contact lens out and gestured for him to hold his eyelid open and tilt his head back so I could put it in properly. The two of us held our breaths as I put the lens in, both of us smiling when I succeeded in putting it in. "You're amazing, y'know that?" He looked me dead in the eyes. I loved him so much, but seeing him with one blue eye and one brown felt odd - like he wasn't entirely _my_ Ritchie anymore.

"I think you've told me before, yeah." I took the other contact lens and put it into his eye. When that was done, Ritchie put his arms around me.

"Thank you for doing this for us. I think you're right about the music, but I couldn't see it until we got here." He looked around the old McCartney bathroom as if it held all of the answers, "even just driving through the city made me feel like a boy again."

I smiled and pecked his lips, "Ritch, you could have come back before, you know. Cities don't leave, people do."

He didn't reply, instead he just looked at me with his newly brown eyes. They suited him, but not as much as his blue ones did. I missed them already.

After several seconds, I smiled, blushing as I asked, "why are you looking at me like that?"  
"Because wherever I go I have you by my side," he paused, "you're the most beautiful girl in the world and I am so lucky to have you as my wife."

I connected our lips and he connected our bodies, slamming his pelvis against my own and grinding his manhood against my skirt. I moaned, my mouth opening. My darling Ritchie took the opportunity to bite my bottom lip which caused me to cry out again.

"You're fucking perfect, Rube, y'know that?" He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around him. Ritchie thrust into me even harder and every time he did, I cried out. He sat me on the edge of the sink, and his hands moved down to my top, slipping underneath it and quickly finding a home over my bra which was thin and lacy and almost non-existent.

He smirked against my lips, "God," he moaned as I reached between us to palm his prominent erection, "I love it when we get time like this -"  
"At least shut the bloody door!"  
The two of us broke apart, a thin line of saliva connecting our lips as we both looked at the door. John and George were standing there, their new hairstyles looking nothing short of terrible.

Ritchie laughed at them and then I joined him. I sighed and jumped off of the sink, giving Ritchie one more quick kiss on the lips before I took the scissors, which were still in George's hand, and said, "come on, boys, I'll sort it out for you." They walked in front of me. I turned to Ritchie, mouthing _I'm sorry_ at him. I'd wanted the two of us to finish, at least.

He shrugged and closed the bathroom door, probably to finish himself off so he could get rid of his erection. I was slick with my own excitement, but I knew that I could make it through the night without getting myself off - I'd wait until later when my Ritchie could do it for me. Looking around me to see if anybody was watching, which they weren't, I reached under my skirt and pulled my knickers down, taking them off and stuffing them under the carpet which was coming up at the edges. I made a mental note to retrieve them before we left in case the next tenant of 20 Forthlin Road decided to lift the carpet, and then I went to help John and George with their hair.

* * * * *

We had all changed. We looked like five idiots, but we didn't look like ourselves. We'd even come up with fake names.

Paul was James, and John was Winston - the two of them had taken their other names. George had chosen Harry, assuring us that he could pretend to be his brother for just a few hours... and Ritchie had chosen Robert - though the lads had very quickly shortened his new name to Bobby.

And I, of course, had been renamed as well -

"Eh!" John - _Winston_ \- beckoned me over to the table that he and the other non-Beatles had procured, "dopey Daisy, over here!"

I groaned and went over to them. "Just Daisy is _fine_ , y'know, _Winston_." He grimaced at his name. He had always hated his middle name, apparently, so it was beyond me as to why he had chosen it for an alias tonight. "Right, get the drinks in then, James." I said to Paul. I nodded, stood up and went to the bar.

"This place changed, didn't it?" George said to the three of us.

Bobby - my Ritchie - looked around, "I don't think it did."  
"It changed but didn't." John looked around, observing the band who were playing on stage. "Eh, imagine if we got up there - d'you think they'd know?"  
"That it's the biggest band in the world in their dingy little Cavern Club where they first began?" They waited for my answer, "I don't think they'd believe it."

Ritchie chuckled and pulled me down close beside him. I cuddled up close and watched the people dancing, the people milling about and the people who were sitting around us.

When Paul rejoined us, I asked, "have you missed it, lads?"  
Instantly, they all nodded and chorused, "yes."

I smiled. It seemed that my plan was working. They were being reminded of who they had been before they had it all. I hope that the humble feeling which they had remembered stayed until they got back to London, and then beyond that.

"Fancy a dance, then?" I jumped. I had been in such a trance that I hadn't even realised that the other three boys had left the table for the dance floor. I turned to Ritchie and smiled, nodding.

We both stood up and he swept me onto the dance floor. Within minutes, everybody had stopped and was staring at the two of us. My heart was thumping in my chest. My Ritchie was an exceptional dancer, and I wasn't too bad either.

"If only Zak and Jason could see us now, eh?" Ritchie said into my ear, just loud enough for the two of us to hear. I laughed, remembering how Zak had called us both old and boring not even a week previously. It felt like a lifetime ago. Being in Liverpool; being alone with the boys that was, felt different. It felt like we were all kids again - though I hadn't grown up with them, of course... but it felt like we were all young with no responsibilities. The normal tread of married life even seemed to have lifted.

Ritchie and I were young once more, with a love burning more brightly than it ever had.

"Eh!" Everybody stopped, including Ritchie and I. We looked up at the stage and saw that John - _Winston_ \- was up there, and he had just snatched the guitar from the guitarist in the band. He elbowed the singer out of the way and took centre stage.

"Hello, everybody," John said with a cheeky grin at the four of us on the dance floor; George, Ritchie, Paul and me, "I'm Winston and it's nice to be home at last!" He cheered, throwing an arm in the air triumphantly. "Anyway, this is a song that came out when you were all still young and innocent," he battered his eyelids at the audience, flirting with them all and holding their attention the way that only John Lennon could, "Johnny B. Goode!"  
Everybody cheered. He played the opening riff and we all began to dance.

This was a song that Ritchie and I knew well - one of our favourites - we always played it on the record player at home, so our dance was well rehearsed.

Paul danced by us with a gorgeous redhead getting very close to him. He smirked at us both, "you two haven't changed, then!"

We tried to reply, but he was gone before we could.

George was back at our table with a blonde girl sitting in his lap. I gestured with my head to the two of them and Ritchie followed my line of gaze. He smirked, "that should be us!"  
"Sitting down?" I asked, having to shout to be heard over John's guitar and singing. "I thought you liked to dance!" He put one arm around my hips and led me off the dance floor. We sat opposite George and the girl, neither of whom noticed us because they were too fascinated by each other.

"I do," he said as soon as we could speak at a reasonably normal volume again, "but I love the feeling of you on my cock even more."  
I giggled, "well if you insist..." I sat in his lap and put my arms around his neck, turning my head to him and kissing his lips softly.

"I love you, Rube..."

I shushed him, giggling. "Daisy..." I took one of his hands and put it under my skirt. He kept moving it up, and I let him.

His eyes widened, "you're not...?!"  
I nodded, smirking. "Want to try something a little... _daring_?"

Ritchie swallowed, nodding eagerly. I looked around us and saw that nobody was watching. I stood up a bit and gestured for him to undo his trousers and take his cock out. He did, making sure to be discrete. I lifted up my skirt and sunk down on top of him, his manhood very quickly filling me.

I shivered, moaning in delight.

Ritchie chuckled as I clasped at my mouth, looking around us once again to make sure that nobody had heard.

But even George and the blonde opposite us didn't look up.

I smirked, turning my head back to my husband, "is this too safe for you, Ritch?"

"I thought we were going with those ridiculous names?" He raised a thick eyebrow, "or is your mind otherwise... _preoccupied_... at the moment?"  
I chuckled, swatting his arm playfully. I brought myself off of his lap, just a few inches above him, and then I dropped back down.

He swore, and I knew that I had him.

"Keep doing it, baby." Ritchie moaned. I nodded and started to ride him slowly, discretely.

I knew that neither of us would get off at this rate, but it was more about the thrill of being caught.

John threw himself into the seat beside us, shocking us both from the rhythm that we had established, "you're not being very discrete," he paused, "I could see you two from the stage - think you need to get back, yeah?"

"W-we're not doing anything -"  
John raised his eyebrows and Ritchie laughed. The sound of his laughter shocked George and the girl out of their conversation. They both stared at us.

George chuckled, "don't be so obvious about it." He smirked, "get a room, you two."

I pulled myself off of Ritchie and smoothed down my skirt. While I was in front of him, he tucked himself back inside of his trousers. When he was done, I slid out of the booth and waited for him to join me.

"We're going to make our way back." We laced our hands together.

"Make sure you shut the door this time." John and George chorused. Ritchie and I both groaned, rolled our eyes and then made our way out of the Cavern and back towards Forthlin Road.

Ritchie and I were barely in the door before we were tearing each other's clothes off - and we barely got that far. Ritchie shucked his jacket and shoes, and I managed to push my skirt up before Ritchie had me against the hallway wall and was pushing his long, hard length into my tight heat.

I moaned, whimpering as he filled me entirely.

"You always take me so well," he cooed as he began to pull out of me slowly, though slightly faster than I had moved against him at the club. "Such a good girl." I keened in delight at his words.

"I am!" I agreed, "oh God, Ritch, I'm a good girl for you!"

Ritchie began to finger my clit, expertly finding it without even looking down between us as he continued to pound into me like a madman.

I screamed out for him, my fingers knotting in his hair and tugging on it.

Thank God I hadn't made him cut his, too.

"You going to cum?" He asked me as my walls clamped tightly around his cock. My eyes widened at that exact moment as I saw stars in front of my gorgeous Ritchie's face. I screamed his name, pulling even more tightly on his hair. "Me too, baby. Me too..."

After we had both come down from our highs, we found our way to the bedroom that had been Paul's dad's, and we settled into the bed there. It smelt slightly musty because it had been left for five years or so, but we didn't care, because when we burrowed our heads against each other's, we smelt home.

* * * * *

"Rise and shine!" I thumped the windowpane with my fist. George groaned and withdrew his arm from around his companion's shoulders - she was the same blonde from the night before. He had found his way into Paul and Mike's old room, though they were the only couple down there. John was in the front room. "John!" I yelled, "wake up! Yoko's on the door and she wants to know why you cut your hair!" He sat bolt upright, his hair sticking out at all angles. He looked around the room with a scared expression on his face and I fell to the floor, clutching my stomach in a fit of giggles.

"You're a swine, Ruby Starkey."

I smirked, "good morning to you, too." I stepped over him, "where's Paulie?"  
John shrugged, "was outside last time I saw him."  
" _Outside_?" I echoed in surprise as I went over to the window. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped.

Paul McCartney was passed out on the grass outside the house, a beer bottle still in his hand and his - well, George's - jacket was gone.

I sighed and went out to the front garden. I kicked him lightly in the side until he stirred, groaning and holding his head as he sat up. Paul blinked several times before he noticed me standing beside him.

"You said whatever happens in Liverpool stays in Liverpool -"  
"Well it would have been nice if it could stay inside the house, too," I frowned, "how much did you drink last night?"  
"I started crying about Jane." My heart stopped. I sat down beside him. "I know, I know. You don't have to -"

"Paul," I said in a very pointed tone, "you were drunk. It meant nothing. Like I said, what happens on this trip stays on this trip... we won't mention it again, okay?"  
He nodded and sighed, scratching the back of his head, "what time is it, anyway?"

"It's half past five."  
"Half _five_?" He exclaimed, wincing immediately because of how loud he had spoken.

I nodded, "we need to get to London soon - I promised Mr Martin that I'd have you all back bright and early back to the boys who could record an entire album in two days."

Paul nodded and stood up, swaying a lot. When he had regained his balance, he held out a hand and pulled me up. He swayed some more and I put an arm around his waist to help him back into the house.

"Right," I said, now that all of the boys were downstairs - and the blonde, who looked very confused as she realised that Paul's eyebrows were rubbed off, George's fake moustache was askew and Ritchie's eyes were blue once more.

"You're -"  
I cut her off before she could finish, "we have no time for you right now, dear," I paused, "it was lovely to meet you and I'm sure that Georgie would say more than that, but we're on a bit of a tight schedule."

"But -"  
I took her arm and led her to the door, opening it and gently pushing her outside. "Goodbye!" I slammed the door and turned to the boys. "Right," I said, turning back to the four of them, "go to the toilet and have a quick wash, gather your bits and then into the car -"  
"But breakfast -"  
"We'll get something on the way, George." I promised.

They all stared at me, their mouths wide open.

After several seconds, I clapped my hands once, "now!"  
They scarpered.

* * * * *

"You look rather surprised, Mr Martin," I smirked, crossing my arms against my chest as I turned to him, "did you doubt me?"

"Mrs Starkey, I doubted that anybody could do it, but you might well have done." He paused, "whatever did you do with them?"  
I smirked, "they needed to be reminded of who they were, and why they started making music in the first place," I paused, "so I took them back to where it all began."

"Liverpool?"  
I nodded, "we slept on leftover furniture and spent no more than a few pounds between us. We ate from the chippy that they did when we were kids, and we just had fun. I made them feel like teenagers again."

"George's new song is good."  
I hummed in reply, "he wrote it on the way home," I explained, "he sung it to us and everything. 'Here Comes The Sun', I think it's inspired by Liverpool and how it always makes the four of them feel happier about everything."

"Or maybe it's about you," Mr Martin paused as I raised an eyebrow at him, "you always bring out the best in them - and I don't just mean because of what you did for them yesterday. I mean that when you come into the studio, they all light up. They don't do that when Mrs Harrison or Ms Eastman comes." He paused, "you might be Ringo's wife, but you're the light in all of their lives - their sun, if you will."

I smiled at his analogy, looking out of the window in the mixing booth at my four boys down below.


End file.
